Chapter 18Your hands once touched this table and this silver,
Anil have seen your fingers hold this glass.
These things do not remember you, beloved,
And yet your touch upon them will not pass.
— “Bread and Music’ by Conrad Aiken,
A week had passed since Sid’s departure. A week that, for Priyam, was nothing but a trudging sequence of numb days and wrenching evenings. She slogged through the day like an automaton and looked forward to the evening to be alone with her memories. Nights saw her lying like a dead log on her bed, going over the same memories and bathing them afresh with her tears.
Priyani’s condition could not but affect Aashi too and cast a gloomy shade over her rising sun. Living just next door and having taken it upon herself to be Priyani’s constant companion in her di
